


Need

by FaintlyMacabre



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Episode: s01e16-17 Peter Nureyev and the Angel of Brahma, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Technically?, in the form of not giving a damn, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 17:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintlyMacabre/pseuds/FaintlyMacabre
Summary: This was… good. An actual moment of good in the horror their lives had become. Juno let himself believe that they’d never need to move again, that he would exist for an eternity like this, wrapped in the warmth and stillness of Peter Nureyev.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 166





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Brief mentions of torture, but no graphic violence.

“What do you need, Juno?”

Juno laughed humorlessly, stopped when it hurt his head too much. “I should be asking you that, Nureyev. You’re taking more hits.”

“I can’t begin to imagine how much that hurts,” Nureyev said, reaching a hand toward Juno’s eye but not touching him.

“I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know,” Nureyev said, like it was easy. “In fact, you shouldn’t. It’ll make you burn out faster; you should save your strength for a crucial moment.”

“Tortured all day, sleep at night. I think?” Juno closed his eyes. “Who even knows what time it is down here. Finding it kind of hard to pick out specific moments.”

“Which is why you should rest and let me take care of you,” Nureyev said. “We don’t know what’s coming next.”

“What could you possibly do for me?” Juno snapped. He regretted it immediately, but Nureyev seemed to take it in stride.

“I’ll admit, resources are limited, but I can think of a few things. Come here.”

It reminded Juno of that first kiss in his apartment, even though it wasn’t at all the same. That was when Peter Nureyev had still just been Rex Glass to him, unconscionably smooth, built for seduction. Now he sat with his back against the wall, his long legs stretched out, battered but not broken, smiling, not smirking. Juno couldn’t think of any reason not to crawl over to him, more importantly didn’t want to think of one, no reason not to come to a stop between his knees and let Nureyev’s hands guide his shoulders and pull him gently back until Juno was sitting snugly against him.

Nureyev was slight but warm and still somehow soft. He wrapped those long arms around Juno and for a few minutes they just breathed together, Nureyev resting his chin on Juno’s shoulder. Juno settled one hand on Nureyev’s leg and the other over one of his hands, and this was… good. An actual moment of good in the horror their lives had become. Juno let himself believe that they’d never need to move again, that he would exist for an eternity like this, wrapped in the warmth and stillness of Peter Nureyev.

So when Nureyev pressed a kiss to Juno’s shoulder, he wasn’t expecting it. A gasp escaped him.

“Juno?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting…” Juno trailed off. “You— you don’t have to stop.”

Nureyev’s mouth moved to his neck; he could feel him smiling against his skin. An openmouthed kiss there, another, another, trailing up his neck. Juno found he was melting into Nureyev, found he didn’t mind. Lips on the shell of his ear, _teeth _on the shell of his ear, and Juno moaned. Didn’t mean to, but did. Nureyev paused and for a split second Juno thought, _I sound needy, that’s not what he was going for, I should say something, _but that line of thought was broken by slim hands wandering over him. One at his throat with feather-light pressure, the other firm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, as the tip of his tongue ran up Juno’s ear. Juno was panting now and if he sounded needy, it was only spurring Nureyev on.

He kissed the skin behind Juno’s ear while bringing one hand down to his thigh and wrapping his other arm around Juno to hold him tight. Juno let his head fall back onto Nureyev’s shoulder, which consequently brought his throat in range for Nureyev to kiss, if they just shifted around a bit…

The hand on Juno’s thigh trailed up without design but hesitated when Nureyev felt the fabric strain. He moved slowly, slow enough that Juno could feel where this was headed and stop it in a moment. But Juno didn’t want to stop it, so he just drank in the sensation as Nureyev’s hand came to rest over his half-hard cock.

“Can I?”

“Please,” Juno managed. The word was barely more audible than a breath, but crystal clear with their proximity. Nureyev rubbed at him through the fabric before taking him out. How were his hands still so soft? “Nureyev.”

“What is it, love?” Nureyev spoke with his lips against Juno’s jaw. “I’m here, what do you need?”

“I just…” Juno couldn’t really think with Peter’s hand around him. “Just—keep—I…”

“I’ve got you, darling,” Nureyev breathed, stroking him. Juno gave himself over to the sensations of Nureyev’s hand on his cock, Nureyev’s mouth on his jaw, Nureyev hardening against his ass. Nureyev rolled his hips and Juno matched his rhythm, fucking Nureyev’s hand. “That’s it, love.”

“What happened to—_mmm_—saving strength for a, _ha, _crucial moment?” Juno panted.

“Believe me, my dear,” Nureyev said, between kisses and bites to his neck, “it was taking far more of my strength _not _to touch you. And this seems like—_ah!_—a crucial moment to me.”

“Nureyev, getting, umm, close.” Juno felt his orgasm rushing at him.

“Look at me, love.” Juno turned and Nureyev placed two almost chaste kisses on his lips before kissing him full on the mouth, swallowing the shout that welled up in Juno as he came. Nureyev stroked him through it, kissed him through it, held him with his other arm in a way that made him feel more secure than it had any right to. Finally, Juno started to come down, slumping back against Nureyev. Nureyev, who was still hard and apparently not going to do anything about it.

“Nureyev,” Juno said, grinding back against him. “What do you want me to do?”

“That—_hah_. That’s not necessary, Juno.” His tone was much more clipped than before, not that he sounded angry or irritated, more like he was trying to maintain control.

“I don’t think I could go down on you right now,” Juno said. He sat up straighter and rolled his shoulders. “Not like this. But I could—”

“You don’t have to,” Nureyev said, but he couldn’t quite keep the pleading out of his eyes.

“I want to.” He cleaned himself up as best he could, fastened his pants, and clambered out of the bracket of Nureyev’s legs, aware that he probably looked stupid and not caring. He settled on Nureyev’s right, curled against his side. “You took care of me but, what, I can’t do the same for you?”

“I don’t want you to feel—” Nureyev started.

“I swear, if the next word out of you is ‘obligated,’” Juno said. Maybe it was the blood loss or the prospect of almost certain death, but everything seemed very clear now. “I want to do this. You trust me, right?”

“I—of course I do.”

“Then trust me to know what I want.” He put one arm around Nureyev’s back and Nureyev’s arm came to rest on his shoulders, as though they’d done this a hundred times. His right hand guided Nureyev’s face into a kiss before trailing down his chest and stomach to the fastening of his trousers. Nureyev moaned into his mouth as Juno undid the closure and took him in hand.

“I don’t think I’m going to last very long,” Nureyev said against his mouth. Distant footsteps sounded in the corridor.

“Maybe for the best,” Juno said. “It sounds like we’ll have company soon.”

“Please don’t stop, Juno.” And the way Nureyev begged, the way he said his name—how could Juno not want to give this man everything? Nureyev panted against his neck as Juno worked him. The footsteps grew louder. Juno kept his pace steady.

“Is this good?” he whispered in Nureyev’s ear.

“Perfect.” The word came out on an almost whine. Juno would never have imagined—well, he’d imagined a lot—but he’d never expected to hear such a broken but pleased sound from Nureyev, never really thought he’d have the man coming apart in his arms like this. “You’re perfect. _Juno_.”

Juno gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the compliment. Not that he didn’t think Nureyev meant it. Just that he was wrong, and the idea of him finding out just how wrong he was—

He kissed Nureyev’s jaw and pushed the thought away. Thinking was a decidedly unwelcome activity right now. Considering the ache that was just starting to sink back into his body, “activity” was going to become an unwelcome activity pretty soon, but for now he could do this. He could live in this space with Peter Nureyev for a few minutes longer, where sensation wasn’t synonymous with pain and where warmth and softness weren’t just hazy memories.

“Close, love,” Nureyev whispered, wrapping his other arm around Juno’s shoulder.

Juno brought his legs up under Nureyev’s, encouraging him to rest them on his lap. “Come on, Nureyev,” he said. “Let go, I’ve got you.” And the sound that came out of his mouth was almost a sob as he came in Juno’s hand. Juno kept stroking him through it, distantly aware of the sounds of a door opening and steady footsteps faltering for a second before they retreated. He didn’t need to think about it, because whatever it was, it was not Peter Nureyev coming down from an orgasm and shuddering in his arms.

Nureyev looked up at him then, open and vulnerable and like Juno was the sun appearing after a storm. That look made something in Juno’s chest clench, a feeling so overwhelming he could only respond by kissing Nureyev with everything he had.

“Everything he had” turned out not to be so much after the events of the day and this recent exertion. Juno used his last little bit of strength to tear a rectangle out of his already torn coat lining.

“Here,” he said, giving it to Nureyev, “you can…”

Nureyev blushed, an unfamiliar sight, and took the cloth. He turned away to clean himself up. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Juno shrugged, even though Nureyev wasn’t looking at him. He looked around the room, noticed that there was a tray of food in front of the door that hadn’t been there earlier. “Oh.”

“What?”

Juno gestured at the tray. “Dinner time.”

Nureyev looked and his eyes widened. “So, they…?”

“Did you seriously not notice?”

“I was a little distracted, if you’ll recall.” He turned to look at Juno, attractively rumpled but fully clothed again. “You did? And you didn’t say anything?”

“I did! At some point. I think.” The look on Nureyev’s face was something else, like he was shocked and impressed, and trying to smirk, but not quite managing it, and it made him laugh for a second before that became too tiring. He lay back on the floor.

“We should eat,” Nureyev said, not getting up.

“Too tired.”

“Mmm.”

Juno looked up. Nureyev was still sitting there, unmoving, looking at the door. “Come on,” he said, patting the floor beside him before he could overthink it. Something like relief passed over Nureyev’s face and he laid down next to Juno.

“We’ll eat when we wake up,” Nureyev said. “Keep up our strength for escape.”

Juno reflexively opened his mouth to argue that strength or no strength, they were almost certainly going to die here, but Nureyev was looking up at the ceiling like he could see the sky and for once, Juno decided that he didn’t have to say anything.


End file.
